When two plus two is five,
It’s not a good time to be alive.
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Rhymes for Insane Times: Volume I
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Dillon Freed
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Introduction
Inspired by Martial, these are small, rhyming comments on life and political rot;
Some to be taken seriously, most not.
Dillon Freed
New York City, 2020
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When two plus two is five,
it’s not a good time to be alive.
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The slowest way to the mountaintop is to chip at the base—
but if you watch most folks, this seems to be mostly the case.
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Atheists love to refer to humans as primates;
notice, though, they never refer that way to Playmates.
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Self-employed, too much work,
the boss is a jerk.
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Beware:
The politicians who rob the bank
often hide by being frank.
Those who speak too blunt
are often thieves on the hunt.
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Work forty hours a week,
about eight of those taking a leak.
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The worst thing about the college-educated;
their heads and their grades are inflated.
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The fastest way for a politician to lose respect
is to their life too closely let them inspect.
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Quiet, listen—you shall hear the thoughts of my foe...
Ah, the silence shows you all he know.
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If we could shrink and go in his head,
it’d be the same as if we were in the mind of the dead.
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In the middle of every boring life,
there is a certain way one looks at a knife.
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“Happy is as happy does,”
said a man who was.
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On stage, the liberal spoke of how important it was to be loving,
off-stage, the help he was shoving.
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It is said that the pen is mightier than the sword!
Yet somehow, typewriters are not the weapon of choice for the warlord.
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The children screamed in a fit;
the politicians echoed it.
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The boxer has no skill, but you better duck,
because better than skill, he has luck!
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The general never threw nor had been hit by a punch,
but he’d gladly start a war on a hunch.
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Many journalists have never swung their fist in a fight,
but those same will never fail to suggest war is right.
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Every person is a hypocrite;
everyone dies and is buried.
Thus, it’s fair to say,
the earth is full of shit.
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The king stays in his bed—
how reason lies in most a head.
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Like a grape on a carried plate,
a simple idea the president couldn’t keep straight.
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Be careful to take charge,
when the police arrive, you’ll take the charge.
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A pillow waits for a head;
of the fool, the same could be said.
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Arrested for ruining a single building’s wall is the vandal,
but the mayor ruins the whole city? Not even a scandal.
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An ugly person hates reflections;
a politician, inspections.
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The dog sniffs before it goes;
the politician before he says what he knows.
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The politician never said anything to any group they would not like—
she wonders why all the groups now want her head on a spike!
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The rat will eat anything;
the lawyer heard a siren ring.
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For those who speak truth to power,
it seems the only thing harder is taking a shower.
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When the intellectual picked up the gun,
the pen no longer seemed as much fun.
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Why is it eventually every professor finds the ultimate solution
... is societal revolution.
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After the shooting range,
he began to change.
To books, he no longer looked;
to more violent things, he was hooked.
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Above the heads of saints, an angel with a halo;
above the heads of politicians, a henchmen waiting for a say-so.
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Politicians never bend the truth;
they just point the straightest way to the voting booth.
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The lazy man said, “What to do? I have not been told a task.”
A very similar question to what a broom must ask.
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The dog went to the hydrant and lifted his thigh;
the politician went to the podium and lifted his lie.
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He said, “Everyone should get the same trophy, it is only fair!”
Except, of course, he should get the biggest trophy for showing how much he care!
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“Look up! See, you are made of those stars that shine!”
says the scientist of our worth.
“Sure,” we say, “that’s fine,
yet we are still stars that die on earth.”
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Did the fellow fly into a rage?
“No,” he said, “it was at leisure.
Slowly, stage by stage;
he was in no danger of a seizure.”
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The monk sat to meditate,
but today God would have to wait.
The new nun had quite the gait.
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The new nun sat to pray,
but her mind immediately began to stray:
the head monk had a certain sashay.
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“There shall be no war on my watch,”
the king said, as across town, the warlord looked at his watch.
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Do not judge a man harmless just because he looks like a weenie;
consider Mussolini.
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A train holds to tracks
as a pessimist holds to lacks.
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Just because they speak with words very long
does not mean they are not very wrong.
In fact, the possibility of error
seems to be even more strong.
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Often, all it takes for a decade’s rule of the Devil
is to have a single moment of a Neville.
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You see, it is the children they most adore.
How do you know?
They put the children to war!
How else can the kids bravery sow?
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If suicide is so blessed,
why didn’t bin Laden wear the suicide vest?
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Macbeth saw not the knife;
instead, that which he took—life.
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The tiger watches you through the flowery blades;
there are enemies at your parades.
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The clumsy man tripped on a crack;
the fool on a simple fact.
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The hawk is jealous of the peaceful dove;
the dove can’t solve this with love.
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The brilliant sun disappeared by a small, gray cloud;
the quiet, smart idea by the one dumb, loud.
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The man who never once did tell a lie,
was the man born on the day he died.
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His morning cup of coffee steams as he sits on the train;
the same could not be said of his brain.
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At first, the current may only be able to move the tiny leaf around;
later, it may take the town.
Beware the small upcoming things—
something tiny now may later upend the kings.
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The wheels are only truly tested on the turn;
people who live in straight lines never themselves learn.
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The man who waves the flag all day—
scary when too many do the same.
The person who burns the flag each day—
scary when too many do the same.
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The madman swats at imaginary flies around his head;
the paranoid leader fights foes, some already dead.
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The people read the paper each morning;
those people eat their breakfast in mourning.
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Owls can see from any angle, hence they are wise—
if only our journalists were likewise.
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Some solve the problem of life after death
by making sure they don’t live now, no mystery left.
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The woman digs for bottles in the trash in a bad neighborhood;
I read the postmodernists and neo-Marxists searching for some good.
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The successful town
is one in which success is not met with frown.
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The family that is happiest,
by others, might be called the sappiest.
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Atheists think "over" is the worst
when they enter into the hearse.
But how can they ever be sure?
Better to live pure.
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The garbage man becomes immune to bad smell;
the lobbyist is immune as well.
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If you want to see a saintly act of the Right,
find the same thing called evil by the Right that the Left did last night.
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If you wish to see the Left say something is blessed,
find the same act by the Right they attacked yesterday with zest.
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The guy who made Viagra will use his wealth to make new medicine for the very sick;
so the world was saved by a bunch of dick.
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Need to find the leader of the house?
It’s whoever takes care of the mouse.
Here we come to an astonishing fact:
it is the cat.
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If you want to know if a man is to God near,
measure him, when he is alone, by his cheer.
False prophets are full of doom,
though you may only see it when they are by themselves in a room.
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How do you know that the saint is not mad?
Because the mad are not always so glad.
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The man who walks into the fancy store in shabby clothes
is likely the one to whom your pitch you should propose.
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The politician dresses very smart;
that is how they cover their ugly heart.
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Oh yes, there are men who can levitate;
watch a lawyer when a siren ululate.
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There are two types of cowards:
those who run for the door,
and those who stare at the floor.
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The worst thing you can do to people
is have them place faith in government more than in a steeple.
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The second worst thing you can do to the population
is to have them think the church is the head of the nation.
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If a man nibbles his food,
you can tell his mood.
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He takes a sip of coffee too hot.
A moment later, he had forgot.
The politician again thinks the mic is off—it is not.
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In a house where the husband is secretly hated by the wife,
the dishes are always clean—especially the knife.
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In a home where the woman hates the man,
along with frying eggs, there are other uses for the pan.
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He planned to escape his boring day-to-day as he increased in age;
so he opened his magazine to a different page.
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The clown added to his face one more drip,
the politician added to his speech yet another quip.
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The man who walks with a cane to get around;
the speaker who has his notes so dumb he does not sound.
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The politician did not trust himself to speak from the heart;
for in his body, he did not have this part.
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The communists think all should be shared;
apparently, most importantly, spreading the people’s blood about everywhere.
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A lesson:
The neighbor who obsesses about his grass’s cut
will often into your business butt.
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The neighbor with a yard in perfect mow
may be a good neighbor but not someone good to know.
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The neighbor with the perfect rose and posy—
careful, will likely be nosey.
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The city is covered in a thick fog;
the brain of the drinker after a slog.
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Beware the neighbor who scours for deals;
they are likely to take your wheels
and say it was the local kid who steals.
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The bear sticks its paw in the hive for honey
regardless of the likely scars.
The crook sticks his hand in the safe for money
regardless of the likely bars.
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Most people are not racist,
it seems to me they are placist:
they judge not the book by its cover
but whether the book is on a shelf, or in the gutter.
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People who make everything about race
have really just found a new mace.
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Long ago, they killed off many Jews.
Sadly, “long ago” might again be today’s news.
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I guess the phrase “never again”
really only meant a decade or ten.
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When you read of history’s past violence and ha and hem,
remember—those you read of possessed the exact same brain stem.
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If you think men and women are the same,
watch a woman nibble an apple with delicate aim,
compared to a man—how when he chews, he maim.
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The paranoid dog hides his bone
as the cheating man hides his phone.
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Socialists scream from their parents’ refuge:
“The success and ease of the best few
is mostly achieved by their parents’ residue!”
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Future politicians have seen what’s written:
after the age of Trump,
anyone can get away with any hump.
Ah, but that’s been true since Clinton!
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The plane was struck by lightning but did not fall;
great men and women, by criticism, do not stall.
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Through the un-curtained window peers the crook;
through the unguarded mind, a demagogue takes a look.
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A healthy child loves the rockstars face,
A sick adults has a politician in his place.
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The believers kneel to the avatars,
the unbelievers to political stars.
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The truly humble,
they tend to mumble;
the falsely modest—
we could be their orthodontist.
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Kindness can keep you healthy:
the butcher cuts the best meat
for those whom he is happy to see.
The rude should cook with extra heat.
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Many a second language they do take up,
why do so few consider Silence or Shut Up?
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People used to think killing was bad,
but consider—bell-bottoms were also a fad.
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The poet stared with awe at the moon;
the politician looked likewise at his goon.
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He tripped over his tongue;
which was the same as tripping over dung.
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Success often comes in bunches
if you are brave enough to follow your hunches.
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A man who makes excuses,
he might as well make his nooses.
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The smart rabbit went into the hole beneath the oak,
but the fox will eventually invent smoke.
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He gave and gave and gave.
You think he was a saint?
There was one little taint—
he only gave himself everything he crave.
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“I will surely reorder the world,”
as around the Communist Manifesto the world-changer in messy bed curled.
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He thought a new idea came to his head,
but it was just an old idea that left 100 million dead.
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The man with a bloody knife took the floor:
“Real socialism hasn’t been tried before!
This time, we will do it without murder or war!
Just don’t count today, of course...”
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“There is nothing I cannot do,”
said the man who mis-tied his shoe.
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As the sun is made of many fires,
politics is made of many liars.
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There is a certain way a cat creep
that makes you think—if they could, they’d kill you in your sleep.
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In old times, they sold snake oil.
Today, they merely holler, “Wealth without toil!”
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The socialist said, “Everyone can be a royal.”
The wise farmer did not stop tilling the soil.
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Soviet Russia suddenly had a new lack—
it was the productivity of the Kulak.
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The journalist said, “The reader also has to do some work!
Like, find out how much I am a lying jerk.”
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The journalist did not understand why he received so much wrath.
Wasn’t the whole truth made by two truths cut in half?
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They claimed they published all the news that was fit to print;
if so, they must have looked at the world through a squint.
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Their motto read, “Democracy dies in darkness,”
they should know—they made the carcass.
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Fair and balanced, they truly believed, was their reporting,
but the morons never considered their scale was distorting.
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The bat can see without eyes;
the old teachers with backs to class, likewise.
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A soldier dreams of glory on a battlefield;
the coward, of a harsh wit to wield.
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The soldier writes poems in the trenches;
a radical writes poems from his stenches.
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Do not forget to recall:
the most evil things start small
before the demons are even tall.
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Some sober people cannot control their car.
Some drunk people can.
Some wise leaders perform under par.
Some reckless leaders improve the land.
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The man was very careful not to say how he felt,
for the questions were asked to get his pelt.
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Forget the color of skin in nearly every matter.
The exception? Judge a person by their gray matter.